


Fugitive Earthling

by ceedeeandco (Scedasticity)



Series: Inherit the Earth [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Multi, Supernatural AU: Croatoan/End'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-09 08:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scedasticity/pseuds/ceedeeandco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's still one very important vessel unaccounted-for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It turned out the Prophet Chuck "Talentless Hack" Shurley was in a small but well-organized human encampment, and was harder to extract than expected. Someone in the camp had silver weapons. Some of the humans yelled at the other humans to go for beheadings, although fortunately most of them weren't very good at it. There were casualties before one of Echidna's dragons knocked out all of the humans, and not a few of the monsters, with a wide-effect mesmer.

"Why didn't they do that five minutes ago?" Euterpe wondered aloud.

Polyhymnia shook her head. "I don't know, but I don't suggest asking her."

"Give us _some_ credit," Calliope replied before Euterpe could.

The three of them were well back of the skirmish. Calliope was there to identify the prophet from among the other humans, Euterpe was there to keep Calliope from terrorizing the prophet, and Polyhymnia was there because the entire Eastern Seaboard needed a break from the musical stylings of sirens.

The dragon finally signaled them forward. Polyhymnia offered her limited healing abilities, and was pointed towards a bleeding, panting skinwalker. Calliope walked slowly through the human camp, among monsters trying to sort out the unconscious humans with less care than they might have some days. It didn't look like there had been any monster fatalities, at least not yet, but the injuries were nontrivial and _acute_ is they were accepting the help of a goddess with no reputation for healing.

Euterpe wandered after Calliope, looking idly at the humans with her own particular perception. Piano lessons, nothing, nothing, band in high school, used to think he could play the guitar, nothing, harmonica, nothing, drumming on every available surface, nothing, bagpipes, piano lessons... _Bagpipes?_ She took a second look at the woman, surprised. A serious performer, too -- Euterpe would have to make sure whatever Reserve the woman wound up at had a bagpipes. The only ones currently active were the improv-drummer and the harmonica player; Euterpe hesitated briefly, then called the harmonica from its place under the man's pillow and tucked it into his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Calliope asked. "Never mind, where's the dragon?"

"Still back there, I think. Did you find the prophet?"

"Yes, and I identified him to the djinn, but that's not all I found. There she is -- come on."

The dragon was among the humans as well, actually kneeling next to... Oh.

"Oh," Calliope said, coming to a halt. "I was coming to tell you that what's left of Dean Winchester's car is over that way, but I didn't see or sense him."

"Just what's left of his car and what's left of his angel," the dragon. "We need to get everyone out of here and set up a trap as quickly as possible."

What was left of the angel snored.

Euterpe winced. "Calliope also found the prophet, so we've done our work here. If you don't need Polyhymnia..."

"She's done what she can."

"We'll get out of your way, then."

Back at Parnassus, Euterpe crossed her arms. "All right, Calliope. In your epic opinion, how likely are they to catch Dean Winchester in their trap?"

"Yeah, maybe if he's gone another week." Calliope sighed. "No. Do you think they'd let me talk to the prophet?"

"I think _I_ won't."

* * *

Instead, they ended up being called to talk to Echidna a few days later. Euterpe made sure to get assurances beforehand that she wasn't blaming them for Winchester escaping; she just wanted them to explain to her if Calliope would be able to track Dean the way she had the prophet -- or explain why she couldn't, rather.

"It's two different situations," Calliope said slowly. "The prophet was writing the story of some people destined to bring on the Apocalypse, entwined in prophecy and celestial and infernal conspiracy, which is just about as epic as you can get. I was aware of every _chapter_ , I couldn't not be, and because of that fucking archangel bodyguard I couldn't so much as sneak in and suggest a different choice of adjective. Honestly, I've seen ten-year-old children who could have done better with that material. Professional athletes. Illiterate pig-farmers. Instead I got him and his physically painful prose--"

"On topic, Calliope."

"Right. Sorry. The prophet was -- to my _eternal_ chagrin -- one of _mine_. One of my artists. We never completely lose track of our artists, not the major ones. That's why I could still find him, even though he hasn't written anything in years."

"We all have people like that," Euterpe said. "Of varying degrees. But some of us have something additional -- mostly Calliope, Melpomene, and Thalia, though Clio gets a little, and very occasionally Polyhymnia or Urania. I don't."

"It's not too complicated," Calliope continued. "If a story about it would be epic, it's kind of mine. If it would be comedic, it's kind of Thalia's. Clio would have more if she didn't keep second-guessing herself about what constitutes historic events. If whatever it is stops being epic or historic or tragic, et cetera, it stops being ours. The Winchester brothers were _always_ kind of mine, because they were fighting evil and destined for great and terrible things." Probably best not to mention the turf war with Melpomene. "I observed a lot, until the angels showed up and I had to back off. At that time, I still could have tracked him without any trouble."

"But..." Echidna prompted.

"But I didn't detect him at the camp, and the camp didn't feel like an epic setting. That only makes sense if Dean Winchester stopped being epic."

Echidna looked thoughtful. "When the angels left, perhaps?"

"Maybe. Or it might be because you took over fighting the apocalypse and he became relatively unimportant. Or there might be something interfering with me, I don't know."

"Very interesting. Perhaps I will ask the ex-angel about it. Is there anything else?"

Euterpe shrugged. "Sort of. Melpomene's had the Winchester brothers a long time, too, and there's no way Dean's stopped being _tragic_ at this point, but her senses are kind of saturated and she's having trouble detecting anything specific right now."

"I see." Echidna nodded slowly. "Thank you for the explanation. You may go."

They went.

Back at Clio's library, Euterpe turned to Calliope. "Thank you for not asking about the prophet."

"Illiterate pig-farmers. _Plural_. I'm not kidding, Euterpe. When I think of all the artists I've lost, all the artists _we've_ lost, while circumstances somehow preserve that -- that--"

"Talentless hack?"

"It makes me so _mad_."

"That's not actually his fault either, Cally."

"Don't bother me with the facts."

* * *

_"Stop messing with that, we need to get going."_

_"No, see, it's powered with a crank, so it doesn't need batteries or anything--"_

_"That's not going to magically make a station start broadcasting for the first time in years--"_

_Crackle._

__"A cow can survive a fair amount of blood loss, but you can't keep it up if you want the animal to stay healthy, especially if you're traveling. In a low exertion scenario, where you're not pushing the cows or yourself, you can get by with one cow per vampire, if you feed the cow well and do _not_ overeat. In a situation where you're expending a lot of physical effort, two cows per vampire is better. Oh, and if you're going to be traveling, try to find range-appropriate cattle."

"So no cows that look like they're on steroids?"

"Yeah, that's a good guideline."

"Interesting. What about pigs?"

"Well, the thing about pigs is that a lot of people will tell you their blood tastes more like human blood than just about anything else. However, you can't take as much blood from a pig as you can from a cow, except for the odd extreme example which doesn't do much more than lie in a wallow. Also, as a rule, the larger they are, the harder it is to travel with them, so there's a definite trade-off there."

"So you wouldn't recommend pigs?"

"Not as a staple, no. There's anecdotal evidence than an occasional draft might actually be good for you."

"And horses or sheep?"

"Too useful in non-food ways, and rare compared to cows or pigs. Emergencies only."

"I see. Well, we're almost out of time, but I do have one more question. I've heard conflicting reports -- can vampires drink from chickens or not?"

"Yes and no. Chickens -- all birds -- have most of what you need to eat, so while you're better off with mammals you can survive off birds a good long while, much longer than you can on reptiles. And while it tastes nothing like human blood, some vampires like bird blood because it makes them -- in a word -- high. It's not physically addictive, but it is habit-forming. Stay away from the bird blood if you have a choice."

"Sounds like excellent advice. Thank you, Dr. Kolmorov. Tomorrow, I'll be talking to Dr. Magda Waldwieb about the nutritional function of hearts for werewolves and skinwalkers. Don't forget our live two-hour panel this Saturday on overcoming the urge to feed to the death! I'm Amabel Robins, and you have been listening to _Sustainable Consumption_."  
 _  
A grainy musical flourish, and a male voice picks up._ That was _Sustainable Consumption_ with Amabel Robins. If you'd like to hear it again, today's edition will be rebroadcast at 3:00 am tomorrow morning. Now it's time for a few hours of music, and I'll be back with the news at 18:30. Well, we've rolled the dice, and this afternoon's musical theme will be... Beethoven!" __

_"What. The. Fuck."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was rearranged and slightly edited 4/26.

Most human pharmaceuticals were useless to most monsters, so everything in short supply (read: almost everything) went to the Reserves first. What was left was strictly rationed and controlled.

All this meant Calag had to fill out five different forms to get a few doses of oxy.

The rakshasa behind the counter didn't dare to mouth off to a dragon, but it have Calag a pointed look which clearly accused him of having nefarious motives, since dragons wouldn't take analgesics even if they had any that worked.

Calag ignored it, and went on his way back to the police station and its nearly-empty lockup. He nodded briefly to the djinn on guard and walked up to the single occupied cell.

The sole occupant was huddled in the far corner.

"He say anything while I was gone?" Calag asked.

"Just that he was too sober to listen to Vampire Open Mike Night. He had a point, so I turned off the radio."

The cell's occupant was shivering, and probably not with cold -- the building was warm enough in August that sweating was more likely. But then, he was sweating, too.

Calag shook the pill bottle. The man went still.

"I'm guessing the withdrawal's starting to hit pretty hard," Calag said conversationally. "You can postpone it for a while. If you want."

The ex-angel made a rude gesture, but uncurled enough to eye Calag. And his pill bottle. "What do you want?"

"To start with, was Winchester alone when he left?" Calag paused. "Come on, we already know he wasn't the only one gone, you wouldn't be telling us anything."

"...No."

"How many people were with him?"

The ex-angel didn't say anything.

Calag perched on the edge of the desk, the bottle prominently beside him. "I can wait."

* * *

It took Sam a second to realize they weren't at the hot springs. It looked more like an extremely run-down summer camp.

"Good evening," Eve said from behind him. Sam turned to see her inspecting a cabin door.

"Hi," Sam said. Then, "Where is this?"

"As it turns out, this is where your brother was holed up until last week. There was a whole resistance group here."

"Huh." Sam looked around the trampled dirt. "What happened to them?"

"Most of them are fine. Safely in custody. We located the camp because of a prophet who was present. Your brother, however, was out of the camp at the time, and presumably realized something was off, because he didn't come back."

"Hmm," Sam said blandly. Prophet? Chuck, had to be. That must have been... interesting. "So, Dean's..."

"Missing," Eve confirmed. "Do you have any idea where he might go to ground next?"

Sam had been going to say _free_. "I think if I did, Lucifer would have caught up with him a long time ago."

"I think you're overestimating how hard he was looking."

* * *

No one seemed to be quite sure why the Vessel Lines Committee had headquartered itself in an art museum. Oxossi had a theory it was to have access to a lot of art with Christian religious themes and stuff without having to deal with the potential hassle of sanctified ground. There was at least one painting of the Last Judgment which had undergone extensive revisions before being given pride of place in the main hall opposite the progress board. As Oxossi entered, Rasoalao was floating in midair in front of the painting, sketching in what looked like one of the new demon-eating dragon-things. Belet-sheri was sitting behind her desk, as usual, and several other gods were gathered around the progress board. They'd been at it for a year, and still had a ways to go.

Tracing human bloodlines could be tricky. Most gods could keep track of their own human descendants without a lot of trouble, but vessel lines and very-slightly-divine lines apparently tended not to intersect, and most of the gods with the largest number of mortal descendants were dead. (If they'd had Zeus, they probably could have covered the entire Mediterranean basin.) Other gods could provide genealogical data for a particular location. Most of the rest of the committee spent a lot time traveling the world and trying to get into human records. Slowly but surely, the family trees were taking shape.

Then they just had to _find_ the vessels. It was really unfortunate that so many of the best trackers from the most prominent pantheons had gotten themselves killed before Lucifer was banished.

The less-prominent hunters who had to step up were doing a very good job, though, if Oxossi did say so himself. Probably with fewer fatalities than Artemis would have delivered, too.

"Success!" Oxossi announced. "I have delivered Sarah Finnerman to the vessel-conversion squad in Kamloops. Slap a _pending_ on her for now, but we should get confirmation at the end of the week."

Zonget frowned. "I don't think I'm familiar with Sarah Finnerman..."

"Over here," Sosondowah said. "One of Raphael's, I'm surprised she wasn't a higher priority."

"She's over ninety. I think everyone assumed she must be dead until I actually asked Belet-sheri."

Belet-sheri was the clerk of the Babylonian underworld and not a lot of fun at parties, but given a unique, concrete identifier, she could tell whether or not a particular human was dead. The power had let them cross off a lot of names from the sprawling family trees on the progress board -- circled in black for confirmed dead. Unfortunately, Belet-sheri's abilities did not extend to identifying different kinds of life, so an "alive" vessel might be infected with the demon plague, possessed by a demon, or even already turned into one of the Mother of Monsters' children.

"Anyway, we got her now. Tough old woman. The most recent active vessel was her grandson. I think that covers all of Raphael's line, doesn't it?"

"Everything we know of," Zonget corrected. "Anyway, I'm glad you're back. There's a lead on Michael's vessel -- a last known location, as of three days ago. He's not there now, but it's a place to start, and we have names of a few people who might be with him who probably don't have his protections."

"Are we dropping everything for one guy?" Oxossi asked, surprised. "Michael's vessel is important, yeah, but there are a lot of other people we haven't found yet, either. There are still loose Campbells, even."

"Not... indefinitely. But we can probably track the other humans better than we can track him, and our source says he'll ditch them if he thinks they're slowing him down, so we have to give it a shot now."

"Okay then. What do we have?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More mythological characters:  
> Lesser-known hunting gods: [Oxossi](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ochosi); [Sosandowah](http://www.pantheon.org/articles/s/sosondowah.html); [Zonget](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zonget); [Rasoalao](http://www.pantheon.org/articles/r/rasoalao.html)  
> [Belet-sheri](http://www.pantheon.org/articles/b/belit-sheri.html)
> 
> Virtual cookie for anyone who guesses where Calag's name comes from.


	3. Chapter 3

They were twenty hours' forced march from Camp Chitaqua, because they'd come back from foraging to find the place overrun with skinwalkers, out-of-phase werewolves, at at least one shapeshifter from the _skin_ left outside the camp. The team hadn't been carrying a single silver weapon, why would they? So Dean had ordered them to scatter.

_"I'm sure many of you are tuning in for news on the continuing internet outage occurring intermittently around the world. The Internet Committee did not respond to requests for comment--"_

_"Or requests to get the web up again please--"_

_"Ha, yes, generally unresponsive. As is their prerogative as gods!"_

Now Dean was stuck with a Cas-groupie whose name he couldn't remember (Al-something?), and Jerry, whose name he could only remember because of all the _complaints_ he'd heard about the guy. He would have made better time on his own. Although admittedly, he wouldn't have picked up the radio, which was… enlightening.

_"However, sources close to the Internet Committee have confirmed that most of the committee is meeting to discuss possible content restrictions. Sources could neither confirm nor deny that the impetus for the meeting was a recently produced European pornographic film set in the Cult of the Divine Mother. One source said that it didn't matter what had set it off, because something was bound to eventually."_

_"By which we conclude that, yes, it was probably the film. We have not yet obtained a copy of the film, thanks to the internet blackout, but we can try to answer some questions which have come up about the Cult of the Divine Mother. It's not a vehicle for human worship of_ our _Mother, but focuses on some human mother goddesses. It is a strictly human cult, and our colleagues in East Central were lucky enough to get an interview with a human who has visited the cult."_

_"Since we couldn't move the studio to the Reserve, this wasn't sufficient reason to bring the human out of the Reserve, and the phone connection was out, they recorded the interview this morning. I'm sorry to say it had to get here by courier. This is East Central correspondent Sasha talking to the human Emily Keller."_

The quality of sound changed, though it was subtle over the little radio. There was more ambient noise, which made sense if it had moved out of a studio into... elsewhere.

(Monsters with a radio show was bad enough. Monsters doing a radio show in a studio added an extra layer of surreal. Monsters doing a radio show, recording interviews, and sharing them with _more_ monsters doing _another_ radio show was... Maybe he'd gone crazy and hadn't noticed.)

_"I'm Sasha, and I'm in the East Central Reserve gatehouse to interview Emily Keller."_

"Sasha" had an accent Dean couldn't quite pin down. More importantly, what was a "Reserve"?

_"Ms. Keller, good morning, and thank you for agreeing to speak with us."_

_"I'm happy for the opportunity. I get asked the same questions a lot, you know? Everyone's curious -- not that I can blame them!"_

_"Indeed. Now, there is a Temple of the Divine Mother not very far from the Reserve, about an hour by car with good road conditions, but there is not normally much interaction."_

_"There's not normally any interaction. But we don't travel outside the Reserve, so we wouldn't expect it. They came by recruiting last fall, like they did everywhere, I think -- inviting women to join the Cult of the Divine Mother, then an interview with a goddess where she did some mind-reading and accepted or rejected..."_

"Hang on," the Cas-groupie said. "Gods are real, now? Like, Greek god gods?"

"Yes," Dean said shortly. "Don't drown it out."

"Fine, sheesh."

_"How did you come to visit the Temple, then?"_

_"Well, the background you need to know is that I am the crazy cat lady -- is that a thing with monsters? Never mind. I take in cats which have nowhere else to go. I don't actually have an exact count right now, but it's more than fifty."_

_"That's a lot of cats."_

_"Way more than one person can take care of properly. I'm always trying to get other people to adopt them, but most people in the Reserve just don't have the space, and outside the Reserve I'm afraid someone will_ eat _the cat. Uh, no offense."_

_"None taken. Some skinwalkers have strange hobbies."_

_"...I didn't need to know that."_

_"Sorry?"_

_"Never mind. Anyway, I got a message that the Temple of the Divine Mother wanted to adopt a dozen cats -- it was a dragon who passed along the message. I didn't really know how to react. I asked for a better description of the environment, so I could choose the cats best suited to it, and the dragon decided it would be simpler just to fly me there and back."_

_"My sympathies. I've never been carried by a dragon myself, but I'm told it's an awkward experience."_

_"I wouldn't recommend it, no. So he took me to the Temple of the Divine Mother, and it's this mall. They've made some alterations, but you can still really tell it was a mall."_

_"Did it meet your expectations otherwise?"_

_"I don't really know what I was expecting. The rumor mill was pretty consistent that the ultimate purpose of the cult was some sort of repopulation tool, but what does that even mean? If I were fifteen years younger I would_ not _have agreed to go. It... met my expectation of being a repopulation tool? There were fifteen full priestesses, and they were all pregnant -- plus ten non-pregnant acolytes, all female."_

_"I see. Did they like the cats?"_

_"I didn't bring the cats the first day, but they eventually settled down pretty well, I understand. But then I was trying to size the place up, so I talked to the priestesses and the acolytes -- even a goddess, briefly."_

_"And what did you find out?"_

_"That--"_

The voices died as the Cas-groupie -- Alicia? no, that wasn't it -- stopped cranking the radio. "I was listening to that!" Jerry protested.

"That whole thing is incredibly creepy," Alice -- Alex? -- replied. "And my arm is starting to get tired."

Dean wasn't very enthusiastic about the tale of cat lady and the pervy gods, either, but there was a chance they'd say something important -- like, break in with a bulletin on the manhunt for Dean Winchester. "Just give the radio to Jerry. Jerry, do not turn the volume up."

_"...of childbirth, so they can interfere directly to make pregnancy and delivery go really, really well with no complications, and let the body recover quickly. They didn't even have any morning sickness."_

_"This would allow for pregnancies in quick succession without endangering the health of the mother?"_

_"I assume so? But this was in April, when the cult was only seven months old or so. There weren't any actual babies in the temple yet."_

_"And what about fathers?"_

_"Apparently_ never _in the temple. That's what makes this whole porn thing so funny. It's all done by in vitro fertilization! With god-magic instead of technology, but -- no sex. Pregnancy completely divorced from sex."_

_"Uh, I have to say, I'm now picturing goddesses accosting random human men and, uh..."_

_"Probably teleporting out sperm samples without ever telling them about it."_

"Okay, that's creepy."

"This whole thing is creepy!"

"Pagan gods are creepy, that's their thing," Dean snapped. "Keep it down, both of you."

_"Anyway, it's about as luxurious as you can get these days, you have a god as your personal physician, and all you have to do is worship some goddesses and gestate. It's definitely not for me, but I can see why some people might volunteer -- but it's really not sexy."_

_"No all-female pregnant orgies?"_

_"...Not that I was invited to. Is that what the film's about?"_

_"We don't know, but I doubt it. I think it was a little less... niche."_

Alison? Alanna? muttered something about brood hens. Jerry looked torn between appreciating the idea of 'all-female orgy' and being disturbed by the idea of 'all-female pregnant orgy'.

The rest of the interview never did give them anything more useful than what they could have picked up from the beginning -- whatever the hell was going on with monsters, it was going on with gods, too, and they had some humans playing along. For added insult, the next musical interlude was to be devoted to '90s boybands.

Dean had spent too much time hiding in Camp Chitaqua after Lucifer dropped out of sight. None of this should have been catching him off guard.

He didn't know what he would have done if he'd known about it sooner.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not like the last chapter very much, so have this chapter right now.

The morning's radio broadcast was about croats. Or rather, ex-croats. And Croab head-crab-things.

_"What they all seem completely incapable of is interaction. Our working theory is that the demon virus overwrote everything in their brain relating to interaction with attack-destroy-kill, with maybe a side of run-in-a-mob. The Croab filtering extracts the demon virus and takes out that script, but it doesn't repair what was there before, so the victim's left without any interaction script. I don't just mean any peaceful interaction script, or any functional interaction script, but_ any _script."_

_"Can you explain what that means for us?"_

_"Well, say Animal A has food, and Animal B needs food, and it sees Animal A's food. Now, social animals have a lot of options. B could ask A to share the food directly or indirectly, it could try to take the food by force, it could try waiting until a moment of inattention and then taking the food, it could back off to preserve social cohesion, it could back off because it thinks it couldn't beat A. Lots of choices."_

_"And that's where normal healthy humans fall."_

_"Yes -- also vampires, incidentally, and wolves and elephants and anything that likes to live in groups. Now, say they're not social animals -- maybe they're tigers, or wendigoes. B won't ask A to share or back off to preserve social cohesion. It might try to take the food by force or stealth, or it might back down because it thinks it won't win. Territory issues can come up here, too. You'll also see this sort of behavior in badly socialized humans. They try to take what they want unless they think it's too difficult or dangerous."_

_"Anything else you'd like to place in that category?"_

_"Not on the air! If B were a human with the demon plague, it would attack A, kill it or chase it away, and then take the food if it was still there and it remembered it."_

_"Charming."_

_"Yep. But these cleansed humans, it's like they don't know what to do at all. Does not compute. Most of them eventually wander off and do something else, but some of them have to be kept in isolation because they shut down completely when anyone's even around."_

_"Does that make handling them very difficult?"_

_"It makes storage a little more complicated, but it's not like they ever--"_

There was someone in the woods ahead of them.

* * *

Oxossi surveyed the scene.

One blatantly obvious trail leading away, probably easily detectable by mortals with no experience in tracking. The mortals wouldn't be able to tell it had been left by Jerry Wilbur, but Oxossi could.

One almost unnoticeable trail leading away, barely visible even to a hunt-god and probably unfollowable when you got a few minutes from the event site. That would be Dean Winchester. He hadn't followed Jerry.

One dead human, shot in the torso at close range. She matched the sketch of Allegra Verroni, but even if she hadn't, the trail led right to her. She'd probably died quickly, but someone had cut into the body after death. Probably getting blood.

One dead vampire, decapitated. Someone had cut into _his_ body _before_ he died, presumably with the girl's blood. He'd also been shot in the knee, prior to any other injuries.

One Alpha Vampire, looking annoyed, and one Mother of Monsters, looking... inscrutable.

"Vampire surprises them, Dean shoots the vampire, Jerry kills Allegra by accident, Jerry runs away, Dean lets him go and tortures the vampire, I assume for information, then kills the vampire and leaves alone."

"Succinct," Eve approved. "Yes, he had many questions about monsters and some about gods. It was only a few hours ago. You probably would have caught up with them this evening if they hadn't stumbled across poor Aloysius."

The Alpha Vampire scowled. "Aloysius should have gotten out of their way. He knew better than to endanger uninfected humans."

"To be fair, he probably wasn't expecting them to kill each other we'll have to get the body to the carrion-mongers. I see why Castiel was not very impressed with Jerry."

Unless Dean had gone after Jerry, they'd now lost their easy tracking method. Damn. Oxossi sighed. "Winchester will have left some trail. We'll have to do it the mortal way, but we can still follow him."

Eve shook her head. "No. He knows gods may be involved, now -- you won't catch him by surprise so easily, and alone like this he's unpredictable. I won't ask you to bring him in intact under these circumstances. Leave him to me. There are less direct methods."

The idea of giving up a hunt _burned_ , but -- you really didn't argue with her. "All right. I'm sorry we failed."

"He's slippery. You have other work to do."

"As you wish." Oxossi paused. "Can I go bring back the Jerry human first?"

* * *

Eve didn't usually get _hands-on_ with souls. She'd tinkered with them early on, of course, as she was finding her style, but mostly she focused on the physical manifestations of her children. Their souls changed, and she hooked a connection into them, but she didn't worry about the particulars. It wasn't as if she were trying to feed off them.

But she _could_ get in-depth, if she chose to.

Sam Winchester's soul was a particularly complex specimen. The effects of her own work were the top layer -- making him one of her own, fine-tuning his capacity for angelic and demonic power, adding natural magic, and some simple repair work. She'd also chopped off the connection between vessel and angel, which was -- she had to admit -- relatively natural. The next layer down was Lucifer's footprints. An archangel couldn't occupy a human body and soul without leaving a lot of evidence. Under that was the Hell-taint Sam had acquired drinking demon blood as an adult, and the mutations triggered by the blood he'd received as an infant. And there was the extra bracing that allowed a human to tolerate an angel.

Eve delicately shifted aside add-ons and avoided tearing open old scars. She was looking for something subtle... _relatively_ native to the soul... there.

A gossamer-fine connection stretched out from one of the unaltered patches of soul, smelling of nothing but humanity. She probed carefully to make sure it could withstand her full attention, but it was stronger than it seemed. Good.

She didn't try to follow it all the way to the other end, but she looked. The other soul was riddled with heavy scar tissue -- some reeking of Hell, some of angels, some of _life_ \-- and probably wasn't functioning properly. She couldn't get a very good idea of his surroundings or thought process without pushing through, which really could break the thread.

Instead, she sliced open only the scar tissue surrounding the connection's terminus. She set a semipermeable barrier to allow a sleeping mind to pass, and then set up a "slope". With all his angel experience, Dean probably wouldn't react well to Sam visiting his dreams, but Dean visiting Sam's? That could be interesting.

Eve carefully settled everything back into place. She should be able to monitor less intrusively, now that the connection was open.

Sam hadn't stirred.


	5. Chapter 5

_  
Only when he saw the flickering orange firelight did Dean realize he'd been dreaming in grayscale. Huh._

_There were people sitting on the floor around the fireplace. One of them was Sam._

_Dean stayed back, keeping to the shadows. If this was Lucifer showing up in his dreams to taunt him, Dean wasn't going to make it easy for him. If it was his subconscious conjuring up Sam for some reason, Dean (didn't want to risk disrupting it) didn't want to try to talk to a figment. For that matter, if it were really Sam, Dean wouldn't (know what to say) want to talk to him anyway._

_"Did you hear something?" figment-Sam asked._

_"No," one of the others replied. "It's your move, Sam."_

_There was the sound of a die clattering on cardboard, and then the tap-tap-tap of a board game piece being used to count spaces. From the taps, Sam had rolled a thirty-two!_

_"Go to Jail again?" one of the others asked --_ Madison _asked. What the fuck._

_Sam shrugged. "If someone's rigging the die, it's not me. Maybe I just belong there."_

_"Why don't you use one of your Get Out of Jail Free cards?" said a woman Dean couldn't place. "You had a bunch, you can't have used them all."_

_"I have a few left, yeah. But it doesn't seem fair, having so many chances, when other people don't get any. Are you sure I can't share them?"_

_"Use the card," Madison advised. "It's crowded enough in here already. You'll mess up our system."_

_"If you say so," Sam said dubiously. "All right, I get out of jail free. Again. Eupraxia?"_

_After another roll of the die, a Harpy stood up and moved a token five jumps along the mantel above the fireplace. "I'm building a hotel on Mount Olympus," she announced._

_"I don't know why, no one else can get up there," Madison said. "I'm still in jail, Jack's still in jail, Gordon's still in jail, Andy may or may not be in jail but is too stoned to take a turn--"_

_"Hey!"_

_Sam laughed. (It had been a really long time since he laughed.) "Come out from under the table and we'll talk. I hope you're not in jail. Amy?"_

_"Gotcha." Another roll of the die, apparently a_ three _. "Ooooh, railroad. I think I'm going to buy it. Those might be getting big again soon."_

_"I'll get you the scissors," Sam said, starting to get up._

_"No thanks, I think I can..." Cardboard ripped. "Use my claws."_

_But Sam was already on his feet, and frowning towards the niche Dean was hiding in. "I swear there's someone real in here, but Eve always makes her own setting, she doesn't just wander into whatever I'm dreaming--"_

__Fuck. _Dean flinched in shock, and saw Sam's eyes lock onto him just before he woke up._

* * *

Gabriel could be very good at chess if he bothered, but he very rarely did. Cheating was less effort and more fun.

The cambion had only had the vaguest idea of how to play chess, but he did have the advantage that whatever he thought the rules were, _were_ the rules, locally, and he could warp reality also.

Watching them attempt to play was probably enough to induce migraines in any aficionado of the game. Tiamat was evidently not an aficionado, or immune to migraines, or not paying very close attention -- or all of the above. She just stood knee-deep in the hot spring, gathering power and funneling it into the water.

Archangels were powerful, but didn't normally _leak_ ; that would be a terrible idea. However, an archangel near something perceived as a threat or an offense would begin involuntarily bringing up extra power just in case, and if he didn't use it the power would bleed off. Gabriel would really have liked to know how Tiamat learned this. _He'd_ never noticed it, because he'd never made a habit of standing around doing nothing in the presence of a threat or an offense. Like a cambion.

The cambion was having a similar defensive reaction to Gabriel, and arguing over board games was only heightening it. Everybody won!

Actually, Tiamat won and Gabriel and the cambion... didn't lose. That was, they didn't lose their lives, freedom, or power they couldn't spare -- at least one of them had to lose the stupid board game.

The kid had apparently decided that balancing his king on top of one of Gabriel's rooks was a perfectly good way of castling. Gabriel was trying to think of an appropriate response when Tiamat waded up to their boardwalk.

"Gabriel," she said. "I have a... courtesy notification. I assume you know of the case of the angel Castiel."

"Yeeeessss..." Gabriel said slowly. Castiel was the only other thing that remembered being an angel left on Earth. (There were a handful who had ripped out their Grace and fallen, but they couldn't remember; there were a few _truly_ fallen who had sided with Lucifer, but most of them had elected to return to Hell when Lucifer disappeared and Tiamat showed up.) "You found him where Thing One had been hiding, I assume?"

She nodded. "Yes. Functionally he is nearly human, and he has been using a large number of psychoactive chemicals. When they are fully out of his system, I'll begin converting him."

"Into one of your new dragon-things." Right. "I don't suppose you asked for his consent?"

"Of course not. But I did explain the situation, and he was... enthusiastic. He doesn't much care for being human."

"I guess he wouldn't." From that perspective, the prospect wouldn't look so bad.

And Castiel was probably desperate for something to believe in, with Father missing, the Host gone, and Winchester One a wreck. Tiamat could fit the bill.

"He'll make a good addition," Tiamat said, sounding satisfied. "He won't be so happy to find his vessel's daughter already here, but we can deal with that."

"I want to talk to him," Gabriel blurted.

"That can be arranged." She smiled. "If you agree to let them practice on you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like writing weird dreams way too much.


	6. Chapter 6

The motel room was very bland apart from the wallpaper pattern of mixed devil's traps and angel-banishing sigils. Sam was looking out the window, but turned as soon as Dean came in.

"Do _not_ tell me where you are. She can get into my head whenever she wants, and I'm sure all this is intended to lead her to you somehow."

"Who?" Dean asked, keeping his voice flat. He was just here to gather intel, that was all.

Sam -- flinched, minutely. "She calls herself Eve, but the pagan gods call her Echidna and Lucifer called her _Tiamat_. She's the mother of monsters."

"And she's supposed to be the reason Lucifer's gone quiet?"

"She threw him off the planet. She says he can come back, but it will take a while."

"And how do I know you're not Lucifer playing some sort of elaborate trick?"

Sam averted his eyes. "Lucifer doesn't usually go for... big, blatant lies. Nothing you could actually catch him on. Then again, I think he probably could if he wanted to, so... I guess you can't know it's not Lucifer." After a pause, Sam added, "I'm _sure_ it's a trick -- at least, that it's a strategy to catch you. Just... not Lucifer's."

The silence lasted long enough to get uncomfortable.

"And I'm supposed to believe she saved you?" Dean asked finally. "Why would she do that?"

Sam grimaced. "That's easy. She wants angel vessels under her control -- all of them if possible. Last I heard she had pagan gods trying to track down any surviving family of the other special kids, on the off chance any of them were viable alternate vessels for Lucifer. She wasn't going to send him off wearing his very favorite vessel."

"So why aren't you dead? Or are you dead?"

"Because Lucifer could easily pull me out of Hell, and if by some bizarre mix-up I ended up in Heaven, the angels would probably throw me right back down to him. I did ask that."

"Oh."

"Then I asked if she could seal my soul in something to hide it, but she said that was unnecessarily fancy when she had her own ways of establishing ownership of souls--"

Sam broke off, and the room started to fracture around them. Before he knew what he was doing, Dean lunged forward and grabbed Sam's arm. The dream stabilized. Sam froze, staring at Dean's hand.

(The arm felt normal. But then it was a dream.)

"I get it," Dean forced out. "She turned you. That's fine." He released Sam's arm and stepped back. "If it keeps Lucifer away, you're better off as -- what, a vampire?"

"…No. Something new. She wanted a demon-eating monster, and didn't have one already." Sam cringed. "Not -- literally eating. Not eating the bodies? I don't-- She actually designed us to be a weapon against demons and angels--"

"But the angels ditched," Dean finished.

"Yeah, that hasn't really come up. Except now Eve _somehow_ got an angel to agree to being _practiced on_. I didn't even think there were any angels left on Earth."

Huh. "Neither did I. Did you get a name?"

"No, unless he was telling the truth when he said 'Clarence', but I doubt it. He seemed weirdly familiar, but... I don't know. It was a strange day."

"Huh." Dean pondered this for a moment. "So, how'd the practice go?"

"All right, I guess? I could get a, a grip on the angel, but I couldn't drag him out of the vessel. Eve said that's to be expected, because he's stronger than most angels we'd realistically come up against."

"Huh." Dean was forming a few theories about mystery angel he figured Sam was probably better off not hearing. "Look, I -- should go. I need to -- wake up."

"I'm mostly keeping West Coast hours," Sam said. "I think if we're not both asleep…"

"I'll keep it in mind," Dean replied shortly.

He didn't know whether Sam had mentioned it expecting Dean to seek contact or avoid it, but Dean was already pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stay away.

* * *

The Hospice of the Gods had once been a human hospital campus. It must have been heavily damaged in the Apocalypse-related disasters, but it hardly showed. If Gabriel hadn't been able to smell Kothar's fingerprints on the repairs, he might have thought the place was in its original condition. Well, that and the shrines.

The Hospice was run by gods and staffed mostly by monsters, with some minor gods and a few humans. (Asclepius was not on the list of gods-in-residence. Gabriel had asked Melpomene; apparently even the other Greeks weren't sure exactly what Asclepius's status was.) Its purposes included treatment of human survivors with conditions too complex to be addressed in the Reserves; housing research into gods manufacturing useful things like drugs and vaccines; attempts to heal victims of the Croatoan virus; and miscellaneous.

Miscellaneous evidently included detoxing ex-angels so Tiamat could turn them into monsters.

Nephthys... did not look particularly thrilled with the situation. She might just think she would be better occupied elsewhere, or she might still be holding grudges over the firstborn-children affair. It could be hard to tell with the Egyptians.

"Babysitting personally?" Gabriel asked mildly.

"The djinn we had on guard decided to respond to his requests for something to get high on with datura, so yes, for now."

"I see."

"The Mother of Monsters sent word you're permitted in, so go ahead."

"Thanks."

"I left him with a hangover," Nephthys called after him.

Castiel was lying on the hospital bed with a pillow over his head. As Gabriel approached, he pulled a hand from under the blankets, middle finger extended. "Fuck off."

"Not even going to check to see who I am?" Gabriel asked.

"I heard you talking to Nephthys. I know who you are. Fuck off."

"That's a bit cold to your last brother on the planet."

Castiel started to pull the pillow off his head, then seemed to change his mind when the light hit his eyes. "First, I'm not sure if I even qualify as your brother any more. Second, I would have been overjoyed to see you at any time between when Dean and I left you in Ohio and our camp getting overrun by monsters. You didn't show when you could actually have helped. I don't need you here now."

Gabriel did not flinch. Staying clear of the Winchester Disaster Factory was probably why he was still alive. He _shouldn't_ even have been in a position where Castiel could identify him. It hadn't convinced Dean anyway.

Still...

"I could try to help you now," he ventured. "You know she's planning on turning you into an angel-eating monster, right? I can try to negotiate to get her to let you out of that."

" _No_." He did lose the pillow this time, and his eyes told Gabriel everything he needed to know. "I won't let you _cheat_ me of my new family -- not when you don't have anything to offer but _you_."

"So, believing in Dad didn't work out, believing in Dean didn't work out, so now you're going to try believing in Tiamat? Have you even been briefed on the Firstborn, at your level? She's not _evil_ the way Lucifer is, but don't think that means she's good, and whatever she means when she says love it certainly doesn't stop her from using people."

"Maybe," Castiel said. "But at least this time I know going in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think posting this beta-less was a mistake. If anyone would be interested in helping tidy this ridiculous story up, drop me a line.


	7. Chapter 7

The dream's setting was a mishmash of half a dozen motel rooms they'd been in over the years -- ancient needlepoint decorations from one, way too many taxidermied birds from another, strange cowboy wallpaper from another, bizarre brass table and chairs from yet another. A boy was sitting at the table scowling at what seemed to be a math book. He could have been human except for his slit-pupil eyes. A woman with the same eyes was sitting next to him, saying something about long division. They seemed oblivious to Dean.

Sam was sprawled on one of the beds in front of the television. The picture was of a small stage with a large banner reading VAMPIRE OPEN MIKE NITE! Sure enough, there was a vampire in the middle of the stage, wearing what might once have been a bridesmaid's dress and belting out _My Heart Will Go On_ with _passion_. When she finished, she was replaced by a smartly dressed vampire who sang three show tunes, accompanying himself on the piano. After that it was a would-be stand-up comedian. Most of his routine seemed to be terrible puns about stakes or vaguely suggestive stories about Dracula. After _that_ , several vampires doing Abbot and Costello. It was like watching a train wreck, but with more secondhand embarrassment.

"Wow," Dean said, when a vampire in an honest-to-god cowboy hat started singing country and western and awkwardly strumming an out-of-tune guitar. "This is... awesome, in a terrible sort of way."

Sam started violently. The woman and boy disappeared, and the decor became even vaguer, but the television didn't change. "Fuck, I can't believe I'm dreaming about Vampire Open Mike Nite. I don't even watch it, Jacob thinks it's funny."

"It is funny," Dean said, staring. "Do those boots even fit him? He looks like he can barely stand up."

"I'm turning this off before the rapper starts," Sam informed him. The remote was under a pile of knives, but Sam found it and cut cowboy-vampire off mid-croon. "I told Amy this was going to traumatize me."

"Wait, you really saw this? There's a functional TV station airing _Vampire Open Mike Nite_?"

"Yeah, and the evening finishes up with some godawful '80s power ballad given new lyrics to make it a love song to O negative."

"...I really want to see it."

"Well, tough, I never want to see it again." Sam glared at the TV as if it might turn itself back on. It didn't.

"I've heard radio broadcasts," Dean said after a moment. "Monster news and, fuck, _nutrition_ , and weird shit with gods, but -- television?"

"I think only in some of the population centers, and only local," Sam replied. "But sometimes the Internet Gods aren't very responsive, and-- You would not _believe_ how attached monsters are to modern conveniences and media and everything. Not, like, wendigoes or rugaru, but -- Vampire Open Mike Nite. The humans in the Reserve have a channel, too, actually, but they have less flexibility in picking programming, so they show a lot of movies and TV shows from before the apocalypse."

"…I'm going to need you to tell me exactly what a 'Reserve' is. Oh, and _internet gods_." Not to mention who 'Amy' and 'Jacob' were.

"I'm not sure anyone can explain the internet gods, but -- Dean--" Sam closed his eyes for a moment. "Look, everything I said about Eve, and her getting into my head whenever she wants to… all that's still true."

Dean shrugged. "Let me worry about that."

"I -- fine. Fine."

* * *

The weather got colder, and Dean headed south. There were definitely fewer croats around, and when he did see them they were likely to have Croabs on their heads and be relatively subdued. The demons must be lying low. Scavenging was risky nonetheless -- a pack of skinwalkers almost caught him in the canned goods area of a grocery store. He probably wouldn't have gotten away if the place hadn't stunk of rotten vegetables.

Even weirder, there were monsters trying to manage some crop harvests. Dean didn't feel qualified to judge how well they were doing it, but it was strange they were doing it at all.

Judging from the power output, they were doing okay with the hydroelectric dam-generator-thing.

He never talked to anyone but Sam, while he slept. After the first few times, Sam stopped trying to warn him about the risks. It was… good, to talk to him.

It hurt, that anything was _good_. He just kept going back, though.

* * *

The setting was bright and hazy, particularly dreamlike, but it looked sort of like a suburban house. Sam was in the kitchen, moving things around randomly. He looked faintly confused.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"I was going to make cookies for them, but I can't find the… uh... anything." Sam frowned into the oven, which was full of Funyons. "I don't think I'm very good at cooking."

"Make cookies for who?" Dean asked. Sam pointed vaguely out of the kitchen to the bright, blurry room with a TV.

The TV seemed to be hooked up to a very surreal video game, and two people were sitting in front of it with controllers. One was the boy Sam called Jacob, apparently a kitsune, fox-eyes fixed on the race-combat-thing on screen. The other was a vaguely familiar blond girl, considerably older.

"I didn't think it was a very good idea," Sam said earnestly. "But she gets to be the grown-up with Jacob, and I think that really helps."

"Who?" Dean asked.

The scene blurred around them, and the bright blurry house become dingier, smaller, but more solid -- an apartment rather than a house, with gray skies outside. The boy and the video game didn't change, but the girl acquired great big bat wings sticking out of her back.

"Claire Novak," Sam said. "She's still angry at Cas -- about her father -- so she was giving him a really hard time and disrupting everything, so Mother decided she needed to be somewhere else for a while. I didn't think here was a good idea, because she doesn't have any reason to like me, either, but at least she doesn't go out of her way to give me trouble."

"You know where Cas is?"

Sam winced. "Yeah. Eve-- I'm not going to tell you where-- She's transformed him already. He didn't seem upset about it when I talked to him…"

"How was he?"

"It was... kind of strange, actually. I was expecting some kind of recrimination about -- about Lucifer -- but instead he just launched into this... laundry list of complaints about the leadership in the resistance camp he was in. The guy sounds like he was out of control, but I don't know why Cas decided to tell _me_."

Oh. "Yeah, that'd be because the leader was me."

"Oh." Sam looked intensely awkward. "So, uh, Claire was in a Reserve for a while, turns out. She seems to think the impression they give on TV and radio is reasonably accurate."

Dean accepted the subject change gratefully. "Did she like it there?"

"She says it compared favorably to the refugee camp she was in, even discounting the eventually-overrun-with-croats part. Apparently it's widely believed -- at least where she was -- that the monsters are planning on setting up some sort of... _harvest_ system, but no one thinks they're doing it now except for nonlethal blood draws and carrying off anyone dying. The evidence they're planning on it is some sort of system for monsters to say particular humans are under their protection and officially off-limits."

"Huh."

"She said her roommates were lobbying for her 'blue-tags', but she hasn't done anything yet. I'd try to put you off-limits, but I'm pretty sure Eve wanting you for a special project overrides everything else."

"Have you tried checking the Reserves for other people? Is there a list or something?"

"I… actually haven't checked."

* * *

Sam asked Amy.

"As far as I know, it's up to the residents of the Reserve to decide what information they want to make public. There's some really basic age and sex data by Reserve, but beyond that it's up in the air. Like, Northwest has a searchable, supposedly complete list of residents, so I found out this kid I went to kindergarten with is still alive -- unless there were _two_ sets of parents in the same year who thought Violetgold-Stingray Knox was a good name for a child -- but West Central doesn't have anything like that. People have to take the initiative if they want to announce they're alive, so I couldn't really conclude anything about any of our neighbors from Bozeman."

"That's the system _I'd_ vote for," Sam said. "I guess I'm not exactly unbiased." His thoughts caught up with him. "Violetgold-Stingray? Seriously?"

"The teachers tried to get everyone to call him Ray. Poor kid. With all the schools I went to after that, no name quite caught up with that one."

"I knew a Righteous Breedlove in second grade," Sam offered. "But that's not in the same family as _Violetgold-Stingray_."

"Maybe a regional thing? But like I said, he's alive, and according to his listing working in the Reserve greenhouse and playing on a soccer team." 

"Is there a picture?"

"No, but I don't really remember how he looked anyway, so it doesn't matter. Wow, I'm off subject. So, residents of Reserves have a chance to announce their continued existence -- except in the Secure Reserve, where they do not have internet privileges."

"Should I know what that is?" It sounded familiar...

"It's where we send the humans who are probably going to cause trouble in the regular Reserves, for whatever reason. Anyway, there's this. It's supposed to be complete." Amy clicked a link, and a new page appeared.

The page explained that for the benefit of humans in other Reserves, it would list the Secure Reserve's inmates, whether each had been sent there initially or kicked out of another Reserve, the reason for their confinement, and in some cases a short message. The list opened with ABBOTT BRADLEY, who had been EXPELLED from the South Central Reserve for being INJURIOUS, specifically "seizing control of water supply to gain power over other humans". ARENDS VERONICA, EXPELLED from the Southeast Reserve for being DISRUPTIVE, "persistently stealing medication for recreational use", had a message saying "Mom, don't worry! I'm okay!" BUCHANAN RICHARD had been EXCLUDED because he was INJURIOUS, "only let people in his bunker if they would have sex with him", and according to the page had left the message "blah blah I'm a pervy asshole like anyone even cares about this guy".

"They're mostly marked as _injurious_ or _disruptive_ , but some of them... see?"

HAWKINS ANNIE was EXCLUDED from the regular Reserves because she was a HUNTER, and as general information "that goddess cult is really creepy". FITZGERALD GARTH was EXCLUDED from the regular Reserves because he was a HUNTER, "sort of", and "Mr Fizzles has been falsely imprisoned!".

HARVELLE ELLEN was EXCLUDED from the regular Reserves because she was a HUNTER. HARVELLE JOANNA was EXCLUDED from the regular Reserves because she was a HUNTER. TURNER RUFUS was EXCLUDED from the regular Reserves because he was a HUNTER.

Jo's message space was blank, but Ellen's instructed the reader not to do anything stupid. Rufus's just said "Fuck".

"Anyone you know?" Amy asked, and Sam jumped.

"Yeah. Yeah, a couple of people."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments welcome.


	8. Chapter 8

"Dean, you can't just break into the Secure Reserve! The _regular_ Reserves have giant concrete walls and patrolling wendigoes!"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Obviously I can't break into it, I don't know where it is."

About to launch into a description of the _publicly known_ security procedures, Sam stopped cold. "Oh. Uh, good. But I really don't know how likely it is they get any kind of unsupervised computer access, or any computer access at all--"

"And it's not like _I_ have any computer access, will you calm down, Sam? I'm being smart about this."

"So how _are_ you planning to talk to them, then?"

Dean looked... shifty. "I'll negotiate something."

Oh. No. "No. That's a terrible idea. You can't do that."

"Don't underestimate me, Sammy." Dean flashed an approximation of his most charming smile, but it wasn't very convincing.

"She is a primordial monster-goddess who faced down Lucifer, has every pagan god on the planet dancing to her tune, and is gearing up to take on angels. Dean, there is no negotiation with Eve which ends with you walking away human."

The smile, such as it was, slipped away. "Well, maybe I'm willing to deal with that possibility. It seems to have done you a world of good."

Sam winced. "Yeah, well, I was already pretty far down. You're better than--"

" _No_. You do _not_ get to say that to me, Sam. You don't know--" Dean broke off, his face twisting. "Thanks for the info. I'll catch you later. Now that there aren't so many croats in Vegas, it is full of ghosts who think they're still gambling."

Dean was getting pretty good at deliberate dream-exits.

Sam woke up and barely managed not to fall out of bed.

They had coffee. All hail the coffee god.

Apparently he hadn't been as quiet as he thought, because the coffee was barely finished when Amy appeared in a bathrobe. Even better, from the thumping overhead Claire was walking around in dragon form. Hopefully she'd shift before taking the stairs.

Sam took a gulp of the coffee. "He said where he was. Just -- announced it. I knew from the start that Eve must have set this whole link up as a strategy to find him, but I wasn't expecting her to pull him _in_."

"...Ah."

"I've told him what she wants with him, and he just -- brushes it off. He's going to walk right into it, and I can't do anything about it."

"Is that really such a bad thing?" Amy asked. "I mean, the wings and the feet are inconvenient, sure, but it's not like you're chomping on hearts once a month."

Or dependent on other people's pituitary glands to live. "You're right, this isn't -- that bad. It's better than a lot of monsters have it. It is worlds better than being Lucifer's vessel, or Lucifer's _potential_ vessel tainted with demon blood. And I can see how it's a good option for a civilian stuck in this -- disaster."

"But not for your brother?"

"Dean's--" Better than that, but that would probably be offensive to Amy and definitely be offensive to Claire. "Dean doesn't make compromises like that. How he reacted when I started using my powers-- He doesn't tangle with inhuman powers, even to accomplish something good."

Amy was frowning. "The books said he made a--"

"Except to take care of his family," Sam added hastily. "He'd do anything to save his family. But it kills him to do it."

"I thought you talked to Castiel, and he told you about Camp Acceptable Losses and Necessary Sacrifices," Claire said from the doorway. "That didn't sound like _compromising_ to you?"

Sam... didn't have a very good answer to that. He hadn't been thinking _Dean_ , when Cas was talking. It was just another example of everything being messed up because of Sam's weakness, surviving humans having to sacrifice their humanity to survive a little bit longer -- the leader was just one more broken guy in a broken world.

He didn't want to believe he'd broken Dean that badly.

"He hasn't been acting like that," Sam said weakly. "When I've talked to him in dreams, I mean."

"Hmm, maybe you're special. Is there any history of him treating you as an exception to any rules?"

"She does... kind of have a point?" Amy said. "Not that it's unusual for family to get special rules, but with you and him in particular, at least what it covers in the books..."

Those stupid books. "Amy, please don't tell me we have the... annotated Supernatural series... in the apartment?"

"I read it at Yellowstone," Claire said. "I wish I could see Castiel's face when he gets to the parts with angels."

At least that explained why Claire hadn't been openly hostile. She'd read the helpless-pawns version. Sam really needed to swallow his pride and read the monster version himself, if only to see what everyone was thinking about him now.

"I guess it doesn't really matter now," he said finally. "He _told her where he was_."

* * *

A lot of the bar was pretty smashed up, and most of the rest had been thoroughly scavenged, but Dean had found a sealed bottle of bourbon behind a jar of molding olives. He didn't bother looking for an intact glass.

He hadn't exaggerated. He could detect evidence of sixteen ghosts around the casino floor, and every single one of them was focused on a slot machine or roulette wheel or ghost card game. Dean didn't want to see what happened when they realized none of the equipment was actually functional, except for how he sort of did.

Eve came in from the fire exit, not the main doors. He wouldn't have immediately pegged her as a _primordial monster-goddess_ , but his instincts screamed 'not human'. He considered offering her some bourbon, but decided against it.

"Thank you for coming and not sending a goon squad," he said instead.

"How could I refuse such a gracious invitation?" Her smile was... kind, which was very weird with the _not-human_ vibes. "Out of curiosity, how certain were you that I'd be here?"

He took another swig of bourbon. "Seventy-five percent? Sam was sure you'd drop on any hint of location, but he's not always the best judge. How pissed is he?"

"Moderately pissed, extremely confused. It never even occurred to him you might turn yourself in."

"Occurred to you, though, didn't it."

She smiled.

"Well played."

"I wouldn't describe it as a game," Eve said mildly, "but I also believe it to have been an elegant strategy. So. I believe you wanted to ask me something?"

"Couple things, actually." He wasn't sure if he needed a drink for courage, but took one anyway. "I want to see Ellen and Jo -- Ellen and Joanna Harvelle, in the Secure Reserve -- in person, while I'm human. And I want them to be protected."

Eve inclined her head. "That can be arranged."

"The angels never get their hands on Sammy, or Cas, or me."

"I'm not in the habit of giving up what is mine." When Dean just looked at her, she smiled, amused. "I will never abandon you to the angels."

"And if you're not in a position to help?"

Her expression grew slightly more serious. "I will arrange with Nyx to terminate your lives if no other method of retrieval is possible."

"Okay. And. Hell?"

"I have _never_ allowed one of my children to pass into Hell, and I never will. When you die, a place will be made ready for you in my abyss, where you can rest."

"...Okay then."

* * *

Ellen had a couple of advantages over most of the Hunters in the Secure Reserve. For one thing, she hadn't been an active Hunter until the demon situation had exploded, so she'd never taken out large numbers of any monsters and none of the subsets of guards had any particular grudge against her. More importantly, her Roadhouse experience had somehow caught the attention of one of the shift leaders, a shtriga called Wendy. Wendy, it seemed, did not think very highly of most of her supervisees; she kept trying to commiserate about working with musclebound idiots who would rather smash things than devote a little energy to planning and forethought. Ellen was not in fact inclined to become best friends with a child-eating monster-witch keeping her locked up, but information was information, so she swallowed her disgust, told a few drunk Hunter stories, and agreed whoever put the skunk in the guard barracks was a discipline problem.

She drew the line at sharing stories about Jo. Wendy _sounded_ very affectionate when talking about the kids she'd been a crossing guard for in the mid-nineties, but Ellen was pretty sure that hadn't stopped her from eating them. Ellen would have preferred to not mention Jo at all -- but a sympathetic guard was the only reliable way to get to see another Hunter.

The monsters kept the Hunters spread out to reduce plotting. While there were at least three or four other female Hunters imprisoned besides Ellen and Jo, her nearest neighbors were a girl caught stealing opiates from the Reserve pharmacy one too many times and a woman who'd tried to 'mercy kill' any other survivor she could get her hands on. (The girl, Ronnie -- well, she put Jo's teenage rebellions in perspective, and was halfway pleasant if you could get her talking about something other than getting high. The woman... Ellen suspected Harriet might have had a close encounter with an upper-level demon, which could inspire that kind of despair. But she wasn't fun to be around.)

Which made it very surprising to be escorted into a visiting room -- the place had been a prison at some point -- to find Jo already there, scowling at her wheelchair.

"How's the knee?" Ellen asked, crossing to give Jo's hand a quick squeeze. She hadn't lost the leg, but it was far from recovered, even now.

"I asked them to give me some crutches instead of this damn chair, and they laughed at me," Jo replied. "Apparently crutches are too easy to convert to weapons. Do you know what's going on?"

Which was when the other door opened and Dean was ushered in.

He looked awful, but… probably not actually any worse than he had the last time she saw him.

"Shit, what are you doing here?" Jo demanded, half out of her chair. "They never put Hunters in together--"

"I'm just visiting," Dean said. "Are you all right? What happened to your leg?"

"Friendly fire isn't." Jo caught herself on Ellen's shoulder, and gave the knee a baleful look. "How can you just be visiting?"

"I, uh, negotiated a visit with you. From Eve. The Mother of Monsters. She's also offering the two of you a chance in a non-secure Reserve. Which I guess have more medical care for non-critical issues."

"Jesus, what the fuck did you _give_ them?"

"He turned himself in," Ellen said. "And agreed to -- what, be _converted_? Don't do that for us, Dean, not for a little more… fake freedom. We're holding on in here. Back out on the transformation."

Dean shook his head quickly. "Pretty sure that part's not negotiable. It's not because I'm a hunter, it's because I'm a vessel. I don't think she's going to accept anything that doesn't leave Michael's vessel under her direct control."

"Meaning... not human."

"Well... yeah. But it's a pretty good deal -- no eating humans required, keep self-control most of the time, even get a chance to fry some demons."

"But--" Ellen stopped. "She's already done whatever it is to Sam, hasn't she." It wasn't really a question.

For a minute Dean looked like he might try to lie, but then he caved. "After she got him away from Lucifer, yeah. She's got him on a long leash in Washington or Oregon or something. We've been -- call it dreamwalking, it's a long story."

"Is he... himself?"

Dean snorted. "Which fucking version? One minute he's casually talking about using monster powers to pull demons, the next he's playing house with a couple kitsune, then he's trying to apologize for everything he's done, then he's complaining about the Internet Gods not being on-task.

"Sounds like she might be tampering with his brain," Ellen offered cautiously. She gave Jo a Look to keep quiet.

"He says she can get into his head whenever she wants, so probably. He kept trying to talk me out of turning myself in, though."

"This is fucked up," Jo said. "You're too good--"

Apparently that pushed a button. "No, I'm not! I am not too good to give in! I am _tired_ , Jo, and washed-up and useless and a failure, and when the mother of fucking monsters is doing more than you to save the world, it's time to pack it in. I am _done_."

Ellen squeezed Jo's shoulder warningly. "But you wanted to talk to us first?"

"Yeah. I… sooner or later, eventually, there are going to be monsters who want to hunt humans again, and eventually there will be enough humans that the top monsters aren't going to stop them, and when that happens -- there need to be Hunters. Someone needs to keep it alive while no one is actually hunting, and I'm dumping it on you guys."

"We can try," Ellen said.

They spoke a little while longer, about Rufus, and Cas, and remembering Bobby, and even how apart from being a monster Sam seemed to be doing very well. Ellen promised they'd give the regular Reserve a chance, and told Dean to take care of himself. It was… awkward.

After the escorts took Dean away, Jo looked at Ellen. "He was already gone, wasn't he?"

Ellen rubbed her eyes. "As good as."

* * *

Dean was… weirdly floaty, the entire trip to Yellowstone, despite the shifters escorting him and the stupidly quiet converted electric car. He'd been holding on so long. He barely remembered how to let go.

He thought he might have upset Ellen and Jo. Disappointed them. Sam would be disappointed. Cas probably couldn't get any more disappointed.

They stopped next to some hot springs. Dean got out. Eve was there.

She put her hands on his face. "Just relax now," she said. "I'll take care of everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an epilogue to go.


	9. Chapter 9

2114  
The Complete Compendium of Monsters

_EARTHLINGS are bimorph hereditary monsters. One form is mostly human, but with wings protruding from the back and large claws on the feet. The other form has a long neck, four legs, two wings, and a tail, and displays a blend of reptilian and mammalian characteristics. All feet have retractible claws. The joints of the forefeet allow humanlike levels of manual dexterity, but the feet are too large for fine manipulation. Adults are generally at least three meters long nose to tail, and there have been reports of earthlings ten meters long or more; it's speculated they continue to grow for their entire lives. They are capable of flight, and can carry a considerable amount of additional weight. Even small earthlings can carry two adult humans without difficulty, and larger specimens have lifted cars, trucks, and -- in unverified reports -- train cars._

_The earthling reproductive method is not fully understood. They are cross-fertile with humans, and the offspring will always be earthlings. When a human is the mother, the infant will be born in human shape, with soft, unformed foot-claws and wings wrapped around itself. It is generally smaller than a human newborn but healthy. The pregnancy is not usually dangerous for the mother. When the earthling is the mother, the offspring will be laid in an egg before hatching in its humanoid form. Earthlings have also been stated to be cross-fertile with all monsters capable of sexual reproduction, with the offspring likewise always dragons. The mechanics of this aren't understood for all kinds of monsters._

_Most earthlings are solitary, in that they do not live with any other adult earthlings. However, most solitaries live with one or more non-earthling companions, human or another kind of monster, and sometimes offspring. Other earthlings live in pairs or even larger groups, which may also be accompanied by non-earthlings. Earthlings refer to these groups, including the non-earthlings, as families, and are usually very protective of them._

_Earthlings do not seem to have any special dietary requirements. In human form they eat like humans; in larger form they are true omnivores. They have never been reliably observed to eat humans, but will steal livestock._

_It is said that the Mother of Monsters created the earthlings to defend earth from alien demons and angels. Most non-physiological earthling powers relate directly to this. They can detect demons, angels, and demonic or angelic power; they can hold, expel, or destroy demons; they can hold or expel less powerful angels. The earthling tail spike can function as an angel-killing sword._

_Earthlings have no particular vulnerability to silver, salt, iron, consecrated items, mercury, goofer dust, or any organic poison. Serious injuries inflicted on the human form trigger abrupt transformation to the larger form and rapid healing. Most weapons will not puncture the skin of the larger form at all; the internal organs of the larger form are believed to be radioactive, with the skin acting as a radiation barrier._

_True dragons are vulnerable only to a weapon forged in dragon's blood. It is speculated that earthlings may have a similar vulnerability, but this is completely unverified._

_If an earthling is causing problems, the best way to deal with it is usually to swallow your pride and get another earthling. You should not have trouble with earthlings. They do not eat humans, they do socialize with humans, and they don't have a record of starting trouble with humans. If humans start trouble with them, they can be vicious. Try to avoid doing that._

_If you have the opportunity to bring an earthling on a demon hunt, or a hunt that might be demon-related, take it. They are the heavy artillery of demon-hunting._

_While the official term is earthling, human civilians will often call them dragons, were-dragons, or dragon-things. North American hunters' slang is winchester._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the end of this series, at least for the moment. If you have any unanswered questions, feel free to ask! :)


End file.
